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“You do not have to do this,” Patrick said, but Sam shook her head.
“Yes I do and we all know it. What option do I have? I either go on by myself or we never finish the quest.”
“We can go back to Camal and wait for Dean to heal enough to go in your place,” Dal suggested.
Again Sam shook her head. “He may be dead by now.” Tears formed in her eyes as she spoke and she blinked them away. This was no time to get emotional.
“We promised that we would look after you,” Seth told her. “How can we do that if we cannot accompany you?”
“I am a big girl. I am more than capable of looking after myself,” she lied. Not wishing them to see how nervous she really was, she turned her back on them and began to walk away, ignoring their calls to her. By the time she reached the city wall she could no longer hear them. Looking back, she saw that they had all sat down and were watching her. They were obviously going to stay there until she returned.
Taking a deep breath, she walked up to the wooden door and knocked. She thumped the wood with all of her strength, but it hardly made a noise. “Great,” she said to herself. “Now what?”
She sat down, leaning against the door, looking towards her friends. If they had any sensible suggestions they would signal for her to join them, but they remained still. Sam heard a creaking sound behind her and stood up just before the movement of the door would have sent her sprawling backwards. It opened just enough for a head to appear. It was completely covered in white bandages, obscuring all features. It was impossible for Sam to estimate age, sex or even species. “Are you the guide?” a voice asked. Sam nodded her head. “Then come with me.”
The door opened a little wider and, with one final backwards glance at her companions, Sam walked through.
The door slammed shut behind her and Sam found herself at the edge of what appeared to be a normal city. The street in front of her was lined with houses and other buildings, some of which had signs hanging outside of them. The person who had opened the door walked down the street without looking to see if Sam was following. She hurried after the figure, glancing at the signs as she passed. They indicated the type of business that was run from the building and Sam recognised pictures of a bookseller, a herbalist and a baker. The street was not deserted and each figure she passed paused to stare at her. All were dressed in trousers and long sleeved tunics, with gloves, stockings and shoes completely hiding their skin and each one had different coloured bandages covering their faces. None approached or spoke to her.
As she continued down the street, she passed a smithy. Even here the character working the forge was completely covered up from head to foot. Her guide continued on, passing many side streets, but never deviating from the straight line they were following.
Finally they stopped outside a large stone building and the person she had been following knocked loudly on the door. They did not have to wait long before it was opened, the figure inside bowing low as they entered.
Silently, Sam was led down the corridor to a room at the far end. “Come in,” a voice boomed out in response to their knock. The person who had escorted Sam made no move to enter the room, instead stepping aside so that Sam’s way was not blocked. Nervously, she walked into the room. It was a study. The walls were lined with bookshelves, crammed full with books, and at the far end was a large wooden desk with two chairs in front of it. Behind the desk sat a large figure, regarding her curiously. Though human in shape, Sam had no idea what this creature was. The first uncovered face she had seen since passing through the city gates looked nothing like she had been expecting. She had been warned that the plague epidemic which had caused the city gates to be sealed centuries before had left those who survived severely disfigured and she had prepared herself for this. The last thing she had been expecting was to find herself staring into the face of a reptile.
“Welcome to Orion,” the creature said. “Please, take a seat.” He indicated the chairs in front of him and Sam did as instructed. “You must be Sam,” he continued, holding up a piece of paper and glancing from it to Sam and back again. When he turned it around for Sam to look at, she saw it was a detailed and very life-like charcoal drawing of her face.
“How?” she asked, but was unable to finish the sentence.
“This was delivered to me a few weeks ago, along with a note stating that this is the guide who will be arriving shortly. It appears the note was correct.” There was a bottle of clear liquid on the desk and two glasses, which he filled as he spoke.
“Who are you?” Sam asked as he passed one of the glasses to her. ‘What are you?’ was what she was thinking, but felt it was too rude to ask. However, the creature in front of her answered her unspoken question as well as her spoken one.
“My name is Ghetko. I am the head monk at this monastery.” The leathery scales of his face moved in unexpected ways and Sam realised he was smiling. “Believe it or not, I am human.”
The liquid turned out to be cool refreshing water and Sam quickly emptied the glass, not realising how thirsty she had been until the water touched her throat. The monk refilled it before continuing.
“This is going to be a long explanation so I hope you are comfortable. As you may already know, our city was beautiful and prosperous before the plague hit. You have probably been told that the King decided to seal the gates, with us inside, to prevent it spreading across the country, but it was the citizens of Orion that actually made that decision. Many of us died and those who did not were left looking like this.” He pointed to his face with his scaly hands. “Our ancestors’ skin turned hard and leathery. Tears of joy, when our children were born normal, turned to tears of despair as their skin changed after a few months. We no longer felt human and could not face what we had become and decided to remain shut away from the rest of the human race.”
“Will I catch the plague?” Sam asked nervously. “What about my baby?”
“You are both completely safe,” the monk assured her. “The plague died out many generations ago.”
“I was told that it affected each of its victims differently. Some went deaf, others blind, for example. Is this true?”
“Yes, according to our history books, it is true,” Ghetko said. “Though, thankfully, those inflictions were not passed on to the next generation.”
“Why do you still remain here?” Sam asked. “Why not go out into the world? With so many different species around, surely you will be accepted.”
The monk shrugged. “Maybe you are right, maybe you are not. Our history books are full of examples of anyone who is different being persecuted and we are not prepared to take that risk. We have everything we need here. We are self governing and our population is remaining at a steady number.”
Something was bothering Sam. If the people of Orion wished to keep themselves shut away from the outside world, why was she permitted inside their walls and, more importantly, would she be allowed to leave again? “How did you get involved with the quest?”
“That is a good question. A man appeared in the middle of our dining hall one day. We have no idea how he got there and, once he had convinced us to become part of the quest, he disappeared.”
“What did this man look like?” Sam enquired.
“That is another strange thing,” Ghetko said thoughtfully. “None of us ever saw his face. He kept his hood raised the entire time he was here, so the parts we could see were always in shadow.”
Sam had been expecting his answer and changed topic, knowing she would learn no more. “Why is everyone in the streets outside bandaged?”
“The sun,” the monk explained, pointing upwards to the ceiling. Sam looked upwards then dropped her gaze, feeling foolish. Ghetko pretended not to notice. “It burns our skin badly so we have learned to remain completely covered whenever we are outside.”
Sam and Ghetko talked for many hours and the sun was beginning to set before Sam’s stomach announced how long she had been without food. She had learned much about the people of Orion and was eager to hear more.
The city had two gates, on opposite sides. Sam had entered through the southern gate and the northern one now remained almost permanently open. They had stockpiled enough food to last many years before the gates had been sealed, but when this had started to run out, they had opened the northern gate to return to their fields and orchards. There was no population of any species to the north of Orion, so they could move about freely without risk of encountering others.
What really intrigued Sam was the wildlife Ghetko had mentioned. A herd of flying horses often grazed nearby and the monk promised to take her to see them.
“Please accept my apologies,” Ghetko said when the noise of Sam’s grumbling stomach drowned out what he had been saying. “I did not realise it was so late. When did you last eat?”
“This morning,” Sam admitted.
“Then you must be starving. I will take you to the kitchen as the evening meal has already been served.” They passed a number of people as they walked through the monastery, all of which were monks, Ghetko explained. Other than a few servants and the occasional guest, only monks were permitted within the walls of the monastery.
“There has been a monastery here for a very long time, hasn’t there,” Sam stated as they walked.
“Yes there has, though it has been used for other things during the centuries.”
“Headquarters for secret societies, for instance.” Sam watched Ghetko as she spoke, but he showed no reaction to her words.
“You are correct. This very building was once known as The Last Retreat and stored many of the documents of the Shandar. We still have a number of them.”
“I know,” Sam told him. “The current leader of the Shandar told me. Is there any chance I can take some of them back with me?” Sam had two reasons for asking this question. The first being that she truly wanted to take as many documents back to Feleen as she could, the other was that the answer would let her know if she was now a prisoner or not.
Ghetko stopped and looked at her, studying her face as though trying to read her thoughts. “Do you promise that you will personally deliver them to the Shandar and will permit nobody else to read them?”
“I do,” Sam said solemnly.
“Very well. I will arrange for them to be packaged up for you, though I have no idea how you are going to carry them all.” They continued onwards in silence, until the monk opened a door, breathing in deeply as he entered the room. “Ah chicken soup. My favourite.”
Sam had been a little nervous about what the people of Orion now ate. She could not get the image of them eating flies out of her mind, despite knowing that they were still human. The chicken soup was wonderful and she had two bowls full.
As they ate, Sam spoke of the centaurs and how they would not approach the city, leaving Sam and her friends to continue on their own. “Have you ever considered making contact with them? It is about time your people reimmersed yourselves in the outside world and they might be a good place to start. They are not human so probably won’t have the same prejudices.”
“You may be right,” Ghetko conceded. “I will give your suggestion serious consideration before approaching our leaders.”
His reply took Sam by surprise. “I thought you were the leader.”
Ghetko smiled. “I am the leader of this monastery and will happily admit to having great influence over our council, but that is all.”
Once both had eaten their fill, Ghetko escorted Sam to the guest wing, where rooms were always available to visitors. When Sam queried how there could be visitors when Orion still remained shut away, the monk told her in a quiet voice that the rooms were mainly used by men who had arguments with their wives and needed somewhere to sleep for the night while waiting for their spouses to calm down. Sam laughed openly. These people really were still human after all.
The room she was shown to had a single bed and a washstand and nothing else. The long cord by the bed could be used to summon someone should she need anything before morning, when Ghetko promised he would return. She enquired about bathing facilities, but the only bathhouse in the monastery was for the men so he advised against using it. If she wished, he would take her to the public bathhouse in the morning.
She slept well that night and was woken by sunlight streaming into her room. She was already dressed by the time Ghetko knocked on her door to escort her to the dining room for breakfast.
The room consisted of long wooden tables and benches; almost all were filled with monks, all dressed in identical trousers and tunics. None had their faces covered and were happily conversing amongst themselves as they ate. Not a single monk turned to look at her as she entered the room, and those that did catch sight of her did not stare.
“Nobody seems surprised to see me,” Sam whispered to Ghetko as she sat down on a bench beside him.
“They all know why you are here. We do not keep secrets from our brother monks.”
Breakfast was a simple meal of bread and fruit, but it was very filling. The bread was very dark brown with a strange, but not unpleasant, aftertaste. Ghetko explained that the flour was made from wild grasses instead of wheat as it was easier to grow in the fields around Orion and was just as versatile.
After the meal, they returned to Ghetko’s office. “It is time to give you what you came here for,” he announced as he took his seat behind the desk.
“Do you not want to see the gem and the seal?” Sam asked in surprise.
“There is no need,” Ghetko informed her. “If you did not have them, you would not have been able to reach the city, or so we were informed. Personally I do not care whether this is true or not. We have done all we have been asked to do.”
He parted the top of his tunic, revealing a gold chain with a large medallion on it. “I was instructed to place this around the neck of the guide.” He removed it from his person and gently placed it over Sam’s head. It was heavy, much heavier than any chain she had ever worn before, and already it was starting to hurt her neck.
“Do I have to keep it on or can I carry it instead?”
“I have no idea. I was not given any other instructions,” Ghetko regretfully informed her.
“Great,” Sam muttered, holding up the medallion and inspecting it. It was a large golden circle with a man on a rearing horse in its centre. Above the man was a crown. “What is this?” she asked.
“Again, I must let you down. I was not told and was not inclined to ask. Maybe one of your companions will know.”
“I will ask them as soon as I see them.”
“Now, what would you like to do for the rest of the day? Do you still wish to bathe? Or I can organise a guided tour of the city. Or perhaps you would prefer to return to your friends as soon as possible.”
“Thank you for your kind offer,” Sam said politely, “but I would like to get back as soon as I can. Maybe I can return one day and see more of your wonderful city?” she asked hopefully.
“We shall see,” Ghetko said, his face breaking into a smile. He pulled a cord behind him and moments later there was a polite knock on the door. He called out ‘enter’ and a young looking monk walked in, bowing low. “Are the documents I asked for prepared?” he asked.
“They are,” the monk replied, “though there are rather a lot of them. We have bundled them up, but the young lady will not be able to carry them far without tiring.”
“I have already thought of that,” Ghetko replied. “Go fetch them and you can accompany us on a visit to the flying horses.”
“We’re going to see the horses?” Sam cried out excitedly.
“Yes. I am hoping to persuade one to fly you back to the centaurs.”
Before leaving the monastery, Ghetko and the younger monk covered all patches of exposed skin, carefully winding cloth around their heads and donning gloves to hide their hands. Once outside, the head monk flagged down a carriage, pulled by a sleek black horse. “It is a long way to the other side of the city,” he explained.
As the three travelled along the streets, Sam noticed once more that the bandages worn by the populace varied in colour. She asked if there was any significance to the colours and was informed that they depicted rank. Every profession was ranked compared to others and, as everyone had to keep themselves covered up, those that ran the city had discovered this colour coordination was a convenient way of identifying people. As each citizen also dressed the same, it was sometimes difficult to tell the sex of someone when out in the open, so the lighter shades were worn by females and the darker by males.
“But why do you need to know someone’s rank?” Sam asked, intrigued.
“Everything runs on rank here,” Ghetko explained. “We no longer have money, except in the museum. Instead, the quantity and quality of things you can obtain from the various businesses is in proportion to your contribution to society, which dictates your rank. Do you understand?”
“I think so,” Sam said. “Does it work well?”
“It seems to,” the monk said proudly. “The only ones who complain are those who are lazy and think they should be entitled to more just because of who their parents are. There is no longer the concept of nobles or hereditary titles here; everyone has to earn their rank.”
“That makes sense,” Sam said. She had not noticed how far they had travelled and was surprised to find they were leaving the city. They continued along the road for a short while until Ghetko called out and the coach driver asked the horse to stop.
“We need to walk from here,” he explained to Sam before requesting the driver to wait for them.
They were in a grassy meadow and as they crested a small hill, Sam gasped. Before her was a herd of the finest looking horses she had ever seen; each with magnificent wings that matched the colour of their skin. “Wow,” she said, completely lost for words.
Ghetko whistled shrilly and one of the grazing horses lifted its head and looked at him. It was charcoal grey in colour and tall, its muscles rippling as it galloped towards them.
“This is Gallofrey,” the monk said by way of introduction, holding out a carrot, which the horse gratefully took, crunching it noisily. “We are old friends.”
Sam tentatively reached out her hand and stroked the horse’s nose. She could not take her eyes off its wings. She had been expecting feathers, but instead they appeared leathery, more like bat wings than birds. Ghetko explained to the stallion that Sam needed help returning to her friends with all of her belongings and the horse nickered in response.
“He said he is more than happy to help,” Sam translated. She had already told Ghetko about her ability to understand animals, so only the accompanying young monk was surprised by her comment. Sam told Gallofrey that she had three friends waiting for her on the outskirts of the city, but others were at the centaur city and a group of centaurs were waiting for their return so they could be escorted back there. Gallofrey called over three of his friends, saying they would happily fly all four humans back to the awaiting centaurs.
The packaged up books and documents were carefully strapped to the back of one of the other horses and Ghetko assisted Sam as she climbed on top of Gallofrey. Once she confirmed she was settled, he took to the air. Sam’s cry of joy could clearly be heard by the two monks standing below.
They flew over the city and soon Sam could make out the figures of Patrick, Seth and Dal far below her. She pointed them out to Gallofrey and he spiralled downwards, closely followed by the other flying horses. The cries of alarm and surprise that greeted them quickly changed to ones of excitement, especially from Dal, when they were told they were to fly to join the centaurs. The centaurs were equally surprised when the humans arrived from the sky instead of overland. Sam thanked their rides for their help and they took off once more, returning to their herd.
The journey back to the centaur city seemed tediously long, but eventually they arrived. A messenger had been sent ahead so Tor, Brodin and Ria were waiting for them in the arena, along with Kentauride and her husband.
“Did you get what you went for?” the chief enquired.
“Yes,” Sam said, removing the chain and medallion from under her blouse.
Brodin and Tor both gasped. “Where did you get that?” Brodin demanded angrily.
“The head monk gave it to me. Why? What is it?”
“That,” Tor said, in a calmer tone than Brodin’s, “is a royal chain of Remeny and the last time I saw it it was round my father’s neck. He was wearing it when he was buried.”